Memoirs of Alicia
by scribbl
Summary: ...and George! Written for the Aboard the Love Boat Challenge by Kyota-chan. George x Alicia.
1. memories

**m e m o r i e s**  
_...she just could not stop thinking of him..._

Sighing, she turned over for at least the fiftieth time that night. She just could _not _sleep. She had tried everything; counting hippogriffs, listening to music, drinking water, taking a shower, nothing worked. She was still wide-awake. Sighing again, she squeezed her eyes tighter and moved to a more comfortable position, hoping to finally get some rest. It didn't work.

Sighing once again at the ridiculousness of it all, she got up and went into the small kitchen in her flat to get a glass of warm milk. The truth was, she knew exactly why she couldn't sleep. It was all because of..._him._ And the fact that he wasn't there. He had only left about four hours ago, but she missed him already. She had no idea how she was going to make it through the next 48 hours.

After finishing her milk, she went to the living room to at least try to get an article done. Might as well utilize this time. But the living room was filled with pictures of the two of them. Laughing, hugging, dancing, smiling. Merlin, did she miss him. She began to read through the the letter her boss had written, but soon realized that while her eyes were rereading the same sentence over and over again, her hands had been doodling on a scrap of parchment. Looking more closely at the picture, she saw a sketch of his face. She sighed yet again. Then, struck by an idea, she took out another piece of parchment, and began to do what she did best.

Alicia Weasley began to write.


	2. stairs

**s t a i r s**  
_...and then she fell, head over heels...in more ways than one..._

She _hated_ moving staircases.

They always moved _just_ when she was about to get off them, making her perpetually late. And it only happened to _her._ No one _else_ had to explain to McGonagall that it was the moving staircases' fault she was late to class. No one _else_ had to explain to Wood that she couldn't make it to Quidditch practice because she had gotten bruised on the moving staircases. And most of all, no one had embarrassing encounters with the person they _fancied._ Which is exactly what happened.

She had been innocently climbing the stairs, on her way back from the kitchens, lost in thoughts about a certain Weasley twin, when, naturally, the staircases started moving. Now she had been prepared for this. After all, when this happens multiple times, every day, for who-knows-how-many years, you tend to find it a bit predictable. And so she had caught the railing, just in time. But she had forgotten just how oily her hands were, after eating all that bacon. And she had _not_ expect the railing to be _that _slippery. She teetered backwards, arms windmilling wildly, eyes screwed tight against the inevitable pain.

And suddenly, she was steady. Her feet were dangling on a step, level with her head. And her head, neck, and back were being supported by something hard, yet warm and soft. And most importantly, there was something around her waist, something that was keeping her warm, something that was steadying her. Looking down, she realized that it was a pair of arms. Which led her to the conclusion that it was a some_one_ who had caught her. Which led her to a very important question. Who?

Slowly, carefully, she tilted her head backwards, looking straight into the eyes of her rescuer. Only to see that she was in the arms of the guy she had been daydreaming about. _George Weasley._

She _loved_ moving staircases.


	3. eyes

(A/N): continuation of 'stairs' (ch 2)

* * *

**e y e s  
**_...she had already fallen...but now she was trapped..._

The second to last coherent thought to pass through her mind was the realization that moving staircases might not be all that bad. Right after that was the thought that his eyes were breathtakingly gorgeous. And after that she was lost, completely, in those gorgeous eyes.

They were blue. Light blue. Lovely shade. They reminded her of the sea, actually. Yes that's what they were. Pools. Pools of blue. _Deep _pools of blue. They made her want to go swimming. Which made her realize that she was, in fact swimming. Or falling. Or something of that nature. Even though swimming and falling were not very similar. Unless you were drowning. Then it was like falling...in water. This epiphany led her to the realization that she was rambling. Incoherently. It was a good thing she wasn't talking out loud...

And then she decided to _read _the expressions in his eyes, not just stare at them. She found that he was looking rather amused. _Too _amused. And smug. Like the cat that ate the _annoying _canary. Which made her wonder why he had that particular expression on his oh-so-handsome face...

Which is when she realized that she was, indeed, talking out loud.


	4. lace

**l a c e**  
_...she hated it...perfect..._

Breakfast at the Gryffindor table that morning was a boisterous affair. But though they were both sitting with the mischief-makers themselves, neither of them was aware of anything but their own thoughts...

* * *

He surreptitiously clenched his fist angrily. What was she thinking? Was she out of her mind? How could she agree to go on a date with _Roger Davies_? Didn't she hate him?

* * *

She surreptitiously clenched her fist angrily. What was she thinking? Was she out of her mind? How could she agree to go on a date with _Roger Davies_? She hated him!

* * *

He wondered what she would wear. Something formal? Something casual? Something sexy? No, not the last one. She would NEVER wear anything like _that_.

* * *

She wondered what she should wear. Something formal? Something casual? Something sexy? No, not the last one. She would NEVER wear anything like _that_.

* * *

And then he had it. The perfect idea. If she had nothing to wear...she wouldn't go on the date! He quickly excused himself from the table, earning some weird looks. But he couldn't care less. He was a man on a mission.

* * *

She watched him excuse himself abruptly, and gave him a weird look. He looked like...a man on a mission. She vaguely wondered why. Then she went back to pondering what to wear. After much contemplation, she finally decided on jeans and a nice shirt. Cute and casual. Perfect. She excused herself, then made her way back to her dorm, relieved that she had finally thought of something to wear. In the common room, she saw George, looking ridiculously happy. But that was normal for a Weasley twin, so she thought no more about it. She soon reached her room, and began to look through her trunk for those jeans and that shirt. But when she took the jeans out, she saw that they were covered in...lace? How did that happen? Upon further inspection, she ascertained that all of the rest of her clothing had met the same fate. Lace, lace, lace. And more lace. She screamed. She HATED lace. With a passion. There was NO WAY she could go on that date now...

* * *

Roger Davies was surprised, but not particularly disappointed when Katie Bell informed him that Alicia was sick, and would not be able to make it to Hogsmeade. After all, the lovely Cho Chang was looking rather lonely...


End file.
